


Beastie

by Yui_Kuromori



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auradon is shady AF, Ben has a different mom, Ben is kind of a badass, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, anti beast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26282848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Kuromori/pseuds/Yui_Kuromori
Summary: Harry remembers a bright-eyed kid that wondered around when he was 10.He had golden hair and a small frail body, his skin seemed too soft and clean when compared to the other isle kids and his voice was too sweet when he spoke to them.Harry remembers thinking that the kid was weak.
Relationships: Ben/Harry Hook
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	Beastie

Harry remembers a bright-eyed kid that wondered around when he was 10.

He had golden hair and a small frail body, his skin seemed too soft and clean when compared to the other isle kids and his voice was too sweet when he spoke to them.

Harry remembers thinking that the kid was weak.

He used to see him around the docks, his face mostly covered in dirty bandages, golden green eyes wondering across Uma’s ship. The crew liked to push him around, but other than his clothes, that were too small to be worn by anyone else, he had nothing worth stealing, he stayed down, when people beat him up, and at the end of the day, he rushed back to the collapsing building no one really entered, because often, one could hear a woman screaming in there.

Harry used to think he was weak, until he wasn’t.

CJ is stabbed, clean in between the ribs, and it takes both him and Gill to drag her back to Lost Revenge’s salted deck. Uma screams, in both rage and desperation, and the whole crew gathers around her bleeding body, as if they could protect her from the horrors outside. They swear that Mal and her gang will pay for it.

And then the kid rushes in, pushes through the crowd with surprising strength and determination, some crew members try to push him away, but he snarls at them like a cornered animal. He clutches a black medical bag in his hands, old and worn out, but similar to the ones Harry had seen in pictures on old books.

“Take off her shirt.”

He says, kneeling in front of Harry’s bleeding sister. Uma tenses, shoulders raising, and she splutters in indignation. The boy looks up from CJ, golden green eyes hard.

“I need to take a look at that wound. Take off her shirt.”

Uma hesitates, and Harry is desperate, so he, not so gently, pushes her out of the way, and rips CJ’s shirt off. She doesn’t wear a bra, and her chest is completely exposed, but the kid doesn’t even flinch, as he turns her body and inspects the bleeding wound. His eye are wide and his face is pale, but his lips are pressed in a thin line that shows determination.

Hurriedly, and a bit clumsily, he tears the medical bag open. Takes out a bottle and a cleanish looking rag and soaks it in the substance. The smell of alcohol burns Harry’s nose and the amber color of the liquid reminds him of rare dinners with his father. He watches as the kid drags it across his sister’s ribs to clean a bit of the blood.

He puts a bit more of the liquid in the cut, and CJ lets out a groan of pain, his body immediately tenses up, and he moves to pull her away from the boy, but he stares at him, pressing the soaked cloth on her wound to stop the bleeding, and Harry feels in his bones that he would be the next person bleeding on the ship’s deck if he dared taking her away from him.

“ Do you have a room we can put her in?”

The kid asks, voice trembling, and Harry nods numbly. Uma helps him hoist his sister’s body up as the boy keeps putting pressure on the cut. In clumsy, ungrateful steps, they stumble their way to Harry’s cabin, and the boy removes the rag as they lay her down on the bed.

“You’re going to need to hold her down for this.”

He tells him, shoving a worn out leather belt in between CJ’s lips, she trembles and the kid keeps staring at him, both pleading and demanding and Harry comes to the terrifying realization that either he does this, or his sister dies.

He grips her shoulders tight, presses her down on the lumpy mattress, and watches as the kid threads a needle and, biting his lip, starts stitching the wound.

CJ lets out a howl of pain, and Harry struggles to hold her down. Her blonde hair is matted with sweat and blood, and her face is pale. He resists the urge to hurl and applies more strength to his hold.

He watches as the kid, pale faced, with sweat dripping from his forehead, finishes stitching up the wound. The stitches are nowhere neat and perfect, but they look clean and the bleeding has mostly stopped.

“ What’s your name?”

He asks the kid, and he looks up, Harry can see a faint dust of freckles under the bandages.

“My mom calls me Beastie.”

Harry pants in pain as Beastie probs and pokes at his injured shoulder. The other boy raises an unimpressed eyebrow and presses a little harder.

“Jesus kid! Are you trying to kill me?”

He attempts to yank his shoulder away from him, but Beastie keeps a strong hold on his body, his lips twist in a condescending smile.

“ It seems to me, you are trying to get yourself killed. Going up against Mal and Jay? At the same time? Alone?!”

He bares his teeth and sets Harry’s shoulder back in it’s socket. He lets out a grunt of pain, and shoves the kid off of him, he falls gracefully on the dirty mattress and rolls his eyes.

“And I’m not a kid, you’re just a year older than me.”

He says in exasperation, and shoves Harry. But there’s an underlying tone of fondness in his voice that has Harry grinning at him.

They lay down on Beastie’s bed, on the collapsing building that a year prior, no one dared to enter. The wailing woman turned out to be the kid’s mom, an old witch, with a heavy French accent. She had no powers left, but had a small herb garden and knew a lot about medicine. Hence Beastie, that ever since having saved CJ’s life, ended up being the medic of Uma’s crew.

“Hey! Are you guys up there?”

They hear Gil call out from downstairs, and Beastie’s lips curl up in a small, fond smile.

“In the attic!”

He yells, and soon enough, Gil emerges from between the shelves and shelves of bottles and books that compose Beastie’s room. There’s an uncanny resemblance between the two kids, from their light hair to the soft curves of their cheeks. Gil throws himself at the other boy, smiling in both relief and apprehension.

“You were gone for a while.”

Beastie’s smile turns pained, and Harry wraps his hand around his wrist. The kid has always done that, disappeared for a while, showed back up bruised and with a bag full of supplies. Sometimes for days, sometimes for months, every time the crew feared he would never return.

“Where do you go anyway?”

Gil asks, eyes worried, and the kid just shakes his head no and lets out a small whimper. Had it been any other day, Harry would have teased him for it, but instead he tightens his hold on the thin wrist, and looks away, pretending not to see the tears almost escaping the kid’s eyes.

Harry’s 14 when they kiss for the first time.

Beastie hisses and drags a wet rag over the bleeding scratch across his cheekbone, the red a shocking contrast against his smooth pale skin. His freckles had darkened over the years and his hair is matted in sweat and dirt.

Mal had almost killed Uma.

Beastie’s face is, as usual covered in bandages and band aids. Harry’s not sure he would be able to recognize the kid without them, there’s dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes, Harry’s doing, making them seem even bigger, and that combined with the dirt caked on his face, makes him look as dirty and twisted as Harry knows he can be.

It had been a tough fight, one that, in a rare instance, had been started by Mal’s gang. They stormed in the docks, all laughter, and mean words, and cut and spat and hurt at everything in their path. Mal claims Uma disrespected her; Uma tells her she never respected her to begin with.

After that, Mal stabs Uma in between her ribs, much like she had done to CJ, all those years ago after Harry broke up with her. Beastie bared his teeth, like an animal, and threw a small vial full of liquid at Evie that made her skin burn and the girl scream, he managed to stab Jay in the arm, and gave Harry an opening to hook him clear across the stomach.

They leave after that, promising revenge.

They have to carry Uma back to the ship. Gil is much stronger now and carries her by himself. Harry and Beastie are better at teamwork as well, and Harry doesn’t gag at the smell of blood and alcohol. Beastie’s face is still pale, but his hands don’t shake as they did back then. Uma ends up with a neat row of perfectly done stitches.

That brings them to Harry’s cabin, where they keep a watchful ear to Squeaky and Squirmy, from where they watch over Uma on the next room. They stand half naked and covered in blood cleaning up after the fight.

Beastie is smaller than him, and if Harry didn’t know that he could slit his throat from ear to ear, he would have called him fragile, he looks beautiful, Harry thinks.

“You could have gotten pretty hurt out there sweetheart.”

He tells him, and the kid blushes at the pet name and rolls his eyes. Harry can barely contain a smirk.

“You could too.”

Beastie approaches him, lips pressed in a thin line.

“I need to know you’re not gonna die if I’m not here to patch you up.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, walks into the kid’s personal space. Runs his eyes across his face. There’s something off on his eyes, a weird mixture of concern and wanting.

He puts his hands on the kid’s waist, Harry thinks he looks small, his breath smells like blood and herbal tea.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Green golden eyes dart across his face, as if he’s looking for something. Beastie reaches up, cups his cheeks, his palms are still wet with blood. He closes his eyes, caramel lashes fanning gently on his freckled cheeks and presses their lips together, in a surprisingly soft manner. It’s warm and gentle, and so different from everything else in the isle.

Kissing Beastie, loving Beastie, is easy, is natural, is warm comfort hidden from harsh concrete and cold blood. They fit together like puzzle pieces, and in that moment, Harry knows in his bone that he is home.

In a especially cold night, soon after he turns 15, Beastie shows up in his cabin, and snuggles with him under the covers.

Harry doesn’t say anything, doesn’t comment on the fact that they are villains, and villains don’t snuggle, nor the fact that Beastie had been barefooted and probably walked all the way to the ship from the old house. He just wraps his arms around the kid’s smaller frame and rests his chin on top of his head. Allows himself to enjoy the affection.

“Do you know how my mom ended up here?”

Beastie asks quietly, and Harry shakes his head. When it came to more proeminent villains, like Maleficent or Ursula, it was easy to remember, but as far as he knew, Beastie’s mom was just a French witch.

“She turned the King, Adam into a beast.”

He says in a whisper, and Harry gasps softly in surprise.

“She was inly trying to teach him a lesson, she was the reason he even met Belle in the first place.”

Beastie’s hands curl into his shirt, his breath is warm on his neck.

“The Beast failed; you know? He ran out of petals. But she lifted the curse anyways. She was merciful.”

He looks up, and Harry can’t pretend not to see the tears clinging to his lashes, drags a thumb under his eyes to wipe them off before they fall.

“She showed them mercy and they locked her here anyway.”

Beastie’s mom is sick.

Harry is not entirely sure what happened, but she is. He meets her for the first time when she is in her deathbed.

Being in the isle and post-partum depression had eroded her mind, and both she and Beastie preferred to keep her isolated, but apparently, she wanted to meet her son’s true love, and flattery warms Harry’s chest quickly.

She has Beastie’s green eyes and big lashes, and the same small nose. Her hair fans around her head in a mane of honey colored curls, and her skin is waxy and yellowed by disease. She’s beautiful, but clearly used to be even more so.

She’s also gentle and has a quiet sweet voice. She tells stories about Beastie’s childhood and whispers him recipes for tea and remedies. Harry’s not great at reading, but gracefully accepts the small leather journal she offers him.

“Take care of him for me okay?”

She whispers to him, tearfully, and Harry can only nod, she nods back, serious and tight lipped.

“Hurt him and I’ll curse your bloodline.”

There’s no magic in the isle, but the fear that settles in his bones makes him giggle nervously at her.

Beastie’s mom dies a few months after Harry turns 16.

The funeral is small, only him, Beastie, Uma and Gil. They burn her body, like they do with every body in the isle, and Beastie puts some of the ashes in a silver locket. He doesn’t cry, not in front of Uma and Gil. As much as he loved them, you don’t cry in the isle.

A day later he shows at Harry’s cabin in the middle of the night, clutching a large duffle bag and tears running down his face.

“Sweetheart?”

The old nickname slips, and Beastie lets out a sob.

“They’re gonna take me. They’re gonna take me Harry!”

He throws himself at him and Harry high him tight.

“I don’t get it. Who’s gonna take you?!”

Beastie just shakes his head and kisses him quickly.

“I love you.”

He says, and Harry sputters in surprise. It doesn’t seem to bother Beastie, because he has that look in his eyes, that same determined look he had when stitching CJ’s wound closed.

“Don’t forget it okay?! Don’t you dare forget that I love you!”

Harry shakes his head stunned.

“I won’t”

He promises, and Beastie offers him a watery smile.

“Good.”

That’s the last anyone sees of Beastie in the isle.

The duffle bag he left was packed full of dried herbs and liquids. Paired with the journal his mother had given Harry, the crew would be set for years of medical care in his absence.

The house is empty, but his clothes remain. Only the picture of him and Harry that they had taken years before missing, along with the locket that had his mother’s ashes.

On his nightstand, there is a ring, shining golden and sturdy. A simple band, under it a note.

  * For Harry. Don’t forget.



It suddenly downs on him that he never said it back.

The whole crew mourns. Uma screams in anger and destroys a small portion of the market. Gil cries and proceeds to hit anyone who says anything about it, CJ bites her lips and punches a wall until her fists bleed. Harry shuts down.

Mal’s gang backs off for a few weeks. Even they have respect for what family meant in the isle.

When Harry is 17, getting closer and closer to 18, they receive a scroll from Auradon.

Inside, an invitation, for Gil, Uma and him to attend their school, and open the path for other villain kids to get out of the isle.

Usually, they would take it without a second thought. But now they don’t. they can’t. not without Beastie. They are still mourning, still angry.

So they turn it down.

A week later, another scroll comes through, more pleading, more insistent.

They turn down the offer once again.

After the sixth scroll arrives, they threaten to hurt the messenger.

A month later Mal’s gang goes to Auradon.

Prince Ben Florian is not a particularly interesting figure.

The closer he got to his coronation, the more they saw of him on the small shitty TV on Ursula’s restaurant. He didn’t appear much on it growing up, but now he seemed to be the only important thing for the cameras.

It’s a surprise to everyone when he starts dating Mal.

He looks strange, standing by her side, small, even though he’s taller than her, fragile, even though he’s standing straight. He had delicate features and big green eyes. Harry hates him immediately.

His coronation is an entire fiasco. From the fairy kid grabbing the wand and Maleficent turning into a dragon. It’s enough to pull out the first real laugh he had in a really long time.

He twists the ring in his finger and watches as Mal hugs the now king tightly.

Beastie’s absence and Mal’s complete disregard for the isle makes them more dangerous.

They are angry and bitter, and even disappointed in her. They didn’t expect for her to come to their rescue, obviously, but Harry’s lungs burn in rage every time he sees Dizzy’s trembling arms sweep with the old broom.

They are more vicious now, less merciful (because mercy serves no purpose, Beastie’s mother had been the proof)

Harry yips and laughs as he walks down the alleys, as he takes Dizzy’s money.

He slips her a couple bills, when he’s sure no one is looking.

Seeing Mal back in the isle makes his anger burn so hot he almost chokes.

“I could hurt you.”

He offers and slides a hook through her hair. Under it’s metal cast Beastie’s ring feels comforting on his finger.

“Not without permission I bet.”

She answers confidently and sticks a piece of gum on the metal. Harry bares his teeth. Things have changed since she left. If he brought her bloody carcass to Uma now days, they would laugh and dance around the bonfire they would use to burn her corpse.

From the corner of his eye, he meets Dizzy’s terrified gaze, and chooses to walk away.

The king came after her.

Gil caught him and brought him back, with the same look in his eyes of a cat bringing a dead mouse to it’s owner.

Harry laughs in sheer disbelief at the boy’s stupidity and watches hungrily as he’s tied to the mast. Those pretty green eyes looking at him, watching like a bird of prey.

“Did you really think you could waltz in here and not get in trouble?”

CJ asks cruelly, and the kid doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking forward. CJ bristles and pulls at his hair a bit before leaving.

“You don’t have to do this.”

The kid says and Harry laughs. He gets into the kid’s personal space, drags a hook gently on his jugular, tries to make him squirm.

The tip of the hook snags into a thin metal chain.

He looks up and meets the kids sharp gaze, there’s a tension between them, and the kid keeps his chin up.

Harry can respect him for that.

“Pull it from under my shirt. Take a look at it.”

He dares, and every instinct on Harry’s body is telling him not to, to ignore the kid and apply a bit more pressure on the soft skin under his jaw. From the corner of his eye, he sees Uma watching them intently, and knows it’s a matter of seconds, before she orders him to back off.

With just enough gentleness to not break it, Harry pulls at the chain.

From under an ugly yellow shirt, a familiar rose shaped locket emerges.

All the air escapes from Harry’s lungs, and he looks up to meet the now familiar green gold eyes. His hand rises quickly to cup one of the king’s cheeks and he studies the features that for so many years had been concealed under bandages.

“Harry?!”

Uma calls out worriedly, but he ignores her. Keeps looking at the king. Finds familiarity in the straight line of his nose, on the delicate curve of his lips, on the freckles hidden under a thin layer of dust.

“Did you keep the ring?”

The king whispers, and under the changes of puberty, Harry recognizes the gentle musical tone of his voice.

“Beastie?!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! please comment and share any criticism, theories and ideas for the second chapter.  
> lots of love  
> Yui


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